


Wading In

by Velvet-Muffin (MischaBea)



Series: Mission Universe [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:23:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MischaBea/pseuds/Velvet-Muffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Brynja Omdahl went undercover to research nuclear radiation for possible S.H.I.E.L.D. applications, she didn’t expect to meet Bruce Banner, a man who would completely change her priorities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mission:  Captivate

**Author's Note:**

> You know, this isn't even the story in this universe I intended to write. It was supposed to be just a smutty good time with a hot villain! (Loki. See: Going Under) But sometimes characters insist on directing their own story. That first interaction I wrote with Brynja and Bruce back in chapter 3 of Going Under actually shocked me. I knew there was some kind of back story: They'd worked together, maybe they'd had a fling, but this? I had no idea it was such a formative moment for her.
> 
> When he walked through that door on that helicarrier and asked if she was afraid of him (which he wasn’t supposed to do, mind you), I felt her heartbreak so acutely, I was amazed. How do you have a character in your head so fully formed and yet something so important, this defining moment in her life, remained hidden? It explained so much about her and she was so insistent on it's truth, I had to just accept it and move on.
> 
> And now I've realized that the backstory might be more interesting than the one I was trying to tell. So I'm writing it down too. And this silly little story about superheroes and supervillains has become much more focused as a story about how this woman deals with loss and renewal. About moving on after you lose the thing that you thought would kill you if you lost it. About whether moving on is even possible.
> 
> This isn't the story I set out to write. In fact I did not want to write this story. I still don't. It hurts too much to write it. If takes too much energy, too many tears. And that's why I have to. Even if no one reads it. Even if no one cares. It's a story that's refused to stay inside of me.

I followed Dr. Lawrence into the lab where I’d be spending my next few months, at least. He’d introduced me to several of my colleagues in the canteen, where they’d been taking their coffee break very seriously. The only person I’d yet to be introduced to was in the room ahead, standing hunched over a computer, engrossed in his work.

“Dr. Banner,” Lawrence called out as we entered the room. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

The man straightened up and turned around. 

“This is Dr. Mary-Elizabeth Omdahl.”

I held out my hand and the man shook it.

“Dr. Omdahl, Bruce Banner,” Lawrence continued.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Omdahl.”

“Please, it’s Liz.”

“Liz it is then,” he gave a tentative smile then turned back to his work as Lawrence showed me around the rest of the laboratory. 

It was easy to fall in with the small group researching radioactive decay and the energy provided by it. Lawrence led the team with a grand air that evinced his hopes for the importance of the research. Nancy, an older bespectacled woman, always had a wry remark at the ready. Henry was a man of plain looks and plain personality but with an alarmingly impressive intellect. Bruce kept the team always moving forward, a new experiment forming in his mind before the previous had even been completed. And Anson, the intern made some pretty damn good coffee.

The only talk was either small or operational, so it was easy to stay work focused and avoid personal topics. About a week in was the first time I was asked a question even vaguely personal in nature and it was still work related so I considered it allowable.

Bruce and I had been sitting side by side in silence awaiting the reactor recharge so we could start another round of tests. I’d kind of blanked out, completely in my head, mentally writing the report I’d needed to send that night to my CO, not that there was much to tell. Then I had that feeling, you know the one. The _someone is staring at me_ feeling. I turned my head and saw him looking at me.

“What?” I asked. “Do I have something on my face?”

He chuckled a little. “No! No, I was just wondering, why are you here?”

“Wha- What do you mean?” I stammered, surprised by the question and a little dismayed that it might be transparently obvious that I was there under false pretenses. 

“I mean, what brings you to the project? What are you hoping to accomplish with our research?”

“Oh.” I was still suspicious about the question. It’s kind of my job to be suspicious, spy and all, even when the espionage is of the more corporate variety. But I answered semi-truthfully. “Well, I’m really hoping we are able to find clean energy sources. I’ve always been environmentally conscious and fossil fuels are so archaic. We should have been able to use technology to free ourselves from the confines of antiquated technical philosophies a long time ago. I'd love to live in a world of sustainable energy.”

He seemed pleased with that answer, nodding in agreement as the recharge timer counted down and the machine was ready to fire again.

After that, our exchanges grew more and more friendly. When he was deep in thought I’d catch myself looking at him, noticing the crease of concentration between his brows, admiring the purse of his lips and the curl of his hair as it fell over his forehead. I’d have to remind myself that my endgame was to pass the findings of these studies on to my superiors, not to get close to these people.

I tried to stay objective. I really did.

A few weeks after I’d started my tenure in the lab, Bruce made an offhand comment about the terrible vending machine food available to us in the canteen adjacent to the department. 

“I cannot eat another cardboard sandwich out of that machine.”

“I hear you.” I agreed, “I ate the turkey on rye the other day and I’m certain it cured the pneumonia I had felt coming on.”

He laughed. “There’s a little diner a couple of blocks away. They have a pretty good lunch selection. Field trip?”

“Ok. I’ll ask around, see if anyone is interested.”

Henry begged off, stating his wife had packed his lunch that morning and it would be rude not to eat it. Anson declined and Nancy just shook her head with her knowing jackal’s grin. That was the point when I started to get anxious. I smelled a trap.

That lunch was awkward, to say the least. I was nervous. Actually nervous. I’m a trained operative. I don’t have nerves. I was worried he was going to ask a lot of questions, looking for information I couldn’t give him. Or worse, that he had a sense that I wasn’t who I claimed to be. But it was fine. Just polite nonsensical conversation. Nothing deep. No prying. Some talk of work and the weather and discussion about a breakthrough another scientist had made in solar energy.

By the end of the meal I had relaxed to the point of laughing and admitting, “I was a little worried when no one else wanted to come that you had some kind of ulterior motive in asking me to lunch.”

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded his head. “I asked them all to say no. I definitely wanted to spend some time alone with you.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “Why?”

“I like you, Liz.” The false name grated against my ears. “I want to get to know you better.”

“No, no,” I shook my head, staving off any further confession, “Please don’t hope for anything out of this. I have a very strict rule. I don’t get involved with colleagues. It’s just too unprofessional.” And messy and untruthful and, damn it, why did I actually have to like this guy? I didn’t want to like him and his earnestness and sweet smile and brilliance. 

“I can understand and respect that,” he replied. And that was it. The End. He honored my wishes and my resolve was unflappable. 

If only.

But the damage was already done. Not that I didn’t try to keep my distance. I did. And not that Bruce pushed. He didn’t. But we were friendly. More friendly than I should have been comfortable with. We chatted and joked and I know my eyes went to him much more frequently than they should have. Nothing more, nothing less.

One afternoon, after about two months of working in the lab, as I packed up to head out, I quipped, “Have a good night, all. There’s a Hot Pocket in my freezer and a Project Runway marathon on TV calling my name.”

Bruce wrinkled his nose. “Hot Pocket? No cooking for you?”

“Ho, no,” came my reply. “I cannot cook. Gave up trying a long time ago. I’m good with takeout and frozen things.”

I drove home to my little single apartment, changed into a tank and nylon running shorts, and pulled my hair back into a messy ponytail pulled halfway through the elastic again so the hair hung limply in a poofy bun. I thought the television on and flipped through the channels with my mind, stopping on the station I’d been searching for. Nina Garcia was berating a horrified looking contestant over her taste level. A perfect evening in.

The doorbell rang. I was expecting no visitors. I grabbed the Smith & Wesson M&P 9mm from it’s hidden drawer on my way to the door. Using the peep I’d had specially installed, I looked out into the hallway and was surprised, to say the least, by what lay on the other side.

Bruce was in the corridor with a paper grocery sack in his arms.

“Uh, just a minute.” I reached behind my back to stow the gun but the elastic wouldn’t hold it. I sent the gun back into the drawer and shut it psychokinetically then threw open the door. “Hi?”

“Hi.” He smiled sheepishly in my doorway.

‘“What’s happening? Are you stalking me?”

“If you consider looking in your personnel file for your address stalking, yeah, I guess I am.”

I shook my head with a disbelieving smile and waved him in.

“I felt bad,” he continued, “that you haven’t had a home cooked meal since you got here. I wanted to fix that.”

“You cook?”

“Yeah, a little. I have a few specialties that I excel at.” He sat the bag down on my tiny counter and started pulling things out: a crusty loaf of bread, pasta, ingredients for what I assumed would become a sauce.

I stared at him, hands on hips, “What makes you think I’d agree to this?”

“Hot Pocket,” he replied. “Plus, you already let me in.”

“Valid points.”

He rummaged through my cupboards and pulled out his tools.

"What if I didn't have everything you needed?"

"These apartments are always fully furnished. This is the building I lived in the first six months I was here."

Made sense.

He opened up a bottle of red wine and poured a measure of it into a sauce pan.

"Is that drinkable?" I asked.

"Absolutely. I'd never cook with something I wouldn't drink." 

I pulled the closest approximation to wine glasses I had out of the cabinet, rounded stemless tumblers.

"There's a bottle of white in there too. I should have put it in the fridge," he scolded himself. He was nervous, but trying not to seem so. It was cute. "I didn't know if you had a preference."

I considered. I definitely needed a drink. But white generally had a lower alcohol content. It was the safer option. I opened and poured two glasses, then stashed the recorked bottle in the nearly empty fridge next to the four ketchup packets.

I sat on one of the two stools at the little island counter that also served as the kitchen table, watching him as he added ingredients and stirred with a familiar precision. We chatted about nothing as I tried to wrap my head around how the hell I had allowed this to happen. This man that I had diligently attempted to keep at arm's length was in my home, making me food.

By the time he set the heaping plate of pasta in front of me, the wine tumblers had already been refilled twice, killing the bottle. I had relaxed considerably. 

He sat beside me on the other stool, watching for my reaction to his food. 

"Oh, wow." I paused to swallow the mouthful before I continued, "This is really good."

"You think so?"

"Why do you seem surprised?" I teased, "I thought you said you were a good cook."

"Uh, I may have oversold that." He showed an apologetic grin. "I can make this. That's about the extent of it."

I grew serious. “Why are you here?” My question mirrored his from weeks earlier but mine was tinged with much more suspicion and confusion than his had been.

He blanched and blew out a heavy breath. “I know I said I wouldn’t push, and I’m not. I’m going for friendly, not creepy. Is it working?”

“Mostly,” I mumbled as chewed on a hunk of bread.

“Good. I’m not going to lie. I enjoy spending time with you, Liz.”

I winced noticeably. I had to physically bite back the urge tell him not to call me that.

His face fell at my reaction. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

I groaned. I didn’t want him to feel bad. Or to go. He hadn’t done anything wrong. “No. I’m sorry. I’m actually really glad you’re here. It’s just,” I gathered my thoughts, trying to figure out how to proceed. “We’re friends right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, good. Liz isn’t really my name. I mean, it is, but it isn’t.”

“Uh, alright.”

“Mary-Elizabeth is my middle name. I use it professionally because my given name is a little weird.”

“What is it?”

“Brynja.” 

“Oh! That is different. Is it-”

“Norwegian, I think. I don’t really know the story behind it.”

“You never asked your fam-”

I held up a silencing finger. “And therein lies the problem. Your first day on the job, you don’t want tell the story of your messed up childhood twenty times to strangers.”

“Ah, I understand,” he nodded slowly. “Don’t worry I won’t ask.”

“You don’t have to ask. That’s what I’m saying. I’m willing to tell you. I never knew my mother. She’s either dead or disappeared shortly after my birth, depending on which of the Sisters I asked.”

“Sisters?”

“Yeah, the good ol’ Sisters of the Sacred Heart. They ran the orphanage.”

“So, no family at all?”

“Nope, none.”

“I understand how that feels.”

“You do?” I was surprised by that confession.

“To an extent. I don’t really talk about it either. What’s past is past, right?”

“Yes! Exactly!”

“I was raised by my aunt. My mother was killed when I was young.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“Past. Nothing you can do to change it.”

“Too true.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes, both of us surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. After a time, Bruce spoke. “Brynja,” he said, as if his lips were auditioning the name. 

I forced out a breathy chuckle. “Yeah. Or just Bryn. Would it be weird if I asked you to call me that, at least outside of work, even though we’ve known each other for a while?” 

“No, I don’t think it’s strange. I prefer it, actually.” He smiled reassuringly. “It suits you. Liz is ordinary. And you’re not...ordinary.”

“Thanks?” I laughed as I began to clear away the dishes and load them into the dishwasher. “Are you planning to head out?”

“I can go if you’d like-”

“No, no. Feel free to stay a little while. Change the channel if you like.” I pointed toward the remote on the coffee table. As my mind had relaxed, I began to believe that it possibly made more sense to get close to my colleagues. If I stayed too distant, that would also be suspicious, right? 

He took the nearly empty wine glasses with him to the couch and sat, flipping to a news station.

I followed shortly with the red wine bottle, finishing the dregs of my last drink before refilling both tumblers. 

Bruce had settled in next to the armrest on the end of the sofa, right arm resting comfortably across the back. Since I was trying to be friendlier, I chose to sit on the center cushion rather than all the way at the other end. I sat with my feet tucked under me, toes pointing in his direction. 

We sat like that for a while, occasionally commenting on a story then going silent again. Eventually I noticed he’d shifted his arm off the back of the couch. Then I felt a gentle caress across my exposed toes, so soft, I wasn’t sure it was intentional. I looked down to see his fingers touching my foot, then up to his face. He seemed wholly content until he noticed my stare.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m not sure what that was.”

I smiled and shifted my weight, leaning into him, pushing my feet in the opposite direction. His arm came around my shoulders and I rested my head on his chest. You know, friendly.

As he looked down and I looked up, our eyes meeting. “You’ve changed your mind?” he asked quietly.

I nodded and he leaned down, delicately brushing his lips against mine. 

The angle was uncomfortable. I broke the kiss and turned my body to face his. Then decided _screw it_ , and threw my leg over his lap, pulling myself up level with him. 

His eyes were wide in surprise but he didn’t seem unhappy with my brazen display. I leaned in and kissed him. His lips were pliable and soft against mine. He seemed content to take me in as I pushed my tongue in between them, sweeping in tentatively at first, then with more ardor. I pushed my hands into the shock of hair that I’d longed to touch for two months. It was just as soft and bouncy as I’d imagined it would be. 

He began to draw my tongue in with gentle suction. I moaned softly and my hips rolled in a circular wave of yearning.

He pulled back suddenly. Pushing me off of him, not roughly but assertively, I found myself on my back on the couch.

“This isn’t right,” he said to nothing in front of him. He turned to look at me splayed out across the sofa. “We’ve had a lot of wine. I don’t want to do something you’ll regret tomorrow.”

I was confused for a moment. We hadn’t had that much wine. I was feeling warm, relaxed, but certainly not inebriated. Of course, I realized, he didn’t know about Vodka Practice with Romanoff. A decent tolerance for alcohol was an asset in our line of work. Never knew when you might have to beat a dictator in a drinking contest (AKA: _Sometimes you get bored on a Tuesday night and decide to play How many bottles of tequila can 5 people put away before someone goes to infirmary for alcohol poisoning._ FYI: The answer is four and three quarters and Billups is still pissed he lost to, in his words, “two chicks, a shrimp, and well, Jackson, I figured you’d beat me ‘cuz you’re a beast, man!”) Plus, it was a pretty stark reversal of my previous stance. I'd gone from quiet science girl to wanton woman in the span of an evening. I'd let too much me out. Of course he thought I was drunk.

“I appreciate your concern, Bruce. I really do. But it’s not like on a whim I’ve just decided that you’re here so I may as well grope you. I’ve been fantasizing about this for a while.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. Do you have any idea how difficult it is being with you every day? I look at you. I can’t help but look at you. My eyes are constantly drawn in your direction. You’re like magnetic north and my compass needle refuses to deviate from your field. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“I’ve always sort of chalked it up to wishful thinking. Sometimes you want something so much that it manifests in your mind but reality is completely different. You told me not to get my hopes up so that’s the state I’ve been living in. The one where I don’t get to have what I want.” 

“Well, sometimes, I can be an idiot. I’ve been fighting this for weeks and for what? So Lawrence doesn’t give me the stink eye four more times a day than he already does?” Totally not the reason, but as valid an excuse as any. “It’s not worth the fight, Bruce. I want you. No, that’s not even it. I NEED you. The lack of you is a visceral ache that nothing else can ease.” 

And with that, his resolve broke. He dove on to my prone body and kissed me as deeply as physical limitations allow. I wrapped myself around him, luxuriating in the sensation of every inch of him. I felt like a tardigrade, my cryptobiosis finally ending, I was coming back to life after a period of long dormancy.

I needed to get at his skin. My fingers worked furiously at the buttons of his shirt, eventually loosing the last one and pushing the fabric down over his shoulders. 

He threw it aside and pushed up on his hands, looming over me, brows knitted. "Are you sure about this?"

I barked a short exasperated laugh. "I've never been more certain of anything."

He lowered his body back down towards mine, but I held him off.

"Wait." I slid myself out from under him. "Come with me." 

I led him the few steps to the bedroom, toward the bed that was much more comfortable than the stiff couch. 

Stepping in close, I ran my hands over his bare chest, up and around, clasping my hands behind his neck. I brought his mouth down to mine, sweeping my tongue around his before pulling away, taking half a step back, and tugging my tank over my head as he watched me. I hooked my thumbs into my waistband and dragged the shorts and my panties down my legs until I stood naked before him. As his eyes pored over me, I stepped back in, pressing my breasts into him and reaching down to unhook his belt. 

I kissed down his chest, ending on my knees before him. I unfastened and removed his pants, freeing his erection. I took the head of him between my lips, circling my tongue around it before pulling him deep into my mouth. I lifted my eyes to him as my lips moved smoothly over his sex. His breathing grew harsh and uneven as I pulled him in and let him slide back out over and over.

“Stop,” he blew the word out in a whisper as he gently pulled my head back, his cock popping free of my lips. I swept one last lick from underneath, over the sensitive frenulum and up across his meatus which was already starting to drip with his gratification. He pulled me to my feet. “This is going to go way too fast if you keep that up.”

“So you’re not in a hurry to be anywhere else then?” I grinned.

“Absolutely not.” He pulled me into his chest and I kissed him hard, running my tongue across his, allowing him to taste himself on me.

I pulled away and pushed him back onto the rumpled bed covers. “If you’re not in a hurry, you should have let me finish.” I slid into the bed next to him. “We’ve got all night. I’m sure that wouldn’t have been the end of our fun.” I threw my leg over his hip, pushing the length of my body against him as he turned to his side to meet me.

“No,” he said sternly. “ I want your lips on mine as I’m moving inside of you. I want to watch the ecstasy on your face as I coax out your orgasm. I want to look into your eyes as I come inside of you.”

The shock of those words alone coming from this man brought me to the brink. I barely even needed his touch after that. Never before had sentences been uttered that had such an effect on me.

I brought him in, kissing him with abandon as he settled himself on top of me. His erection pressed against me and I rolled my hips to position him at my entrance but he reached his hand down between us slipping his fingers in instead and sweeping his thumb over my clit, drawing my needy moans into his mouth.

He continued to sweep his thumb over me and roll his fingers inside. I dripped with longing and tensed against him as he moved his hand until I broke and flooded his palm and wrist. I felt him smile against my my lips as he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock, sliding in easily. 

He didn’t move at first, enjoying the sensation of my muscles caressing him as my orgasm continued to pulse around him. When the spasms faded he proceeded, slowly and gently at first but soon the intensity heightened. I found myself wrapping my arms, legs, entire body around him, trying to pull every molecule of him inside of me. I was consumed by the desire to possess him, body, mind, and soul. I didn’t remember ever having wanted anything as much as I did this man in this moment as he fucked me with an animalism that belied his mild mannered diurnal persona. But soon even those thoughts disappeared. Lost in pleasure, lost in space, I heard my voice as if disembodied cry out as another orgasm rocked my body. 

Then I heard his breath catching and felt his movements become erratic. He looked at me, stared into me as he came, just as he’d promised he would.

We didn’t speak for a long while. What was there to say with our lips that hadn’t already been better communicated via our bodies? He’d turned onto his back and I lay atop him with my head on his chest.

After an epoch of lying quietly, Bruce stroking the hair he’d freed from the completely fubared ponytail and myself running my fingers over and around his chest and stomach, he finally spoke.

“How long do you think we’ve been here like this? It must be late.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I’m sure it is. Do you need to go?”

“Do you want me to go?”

I looked into his eyes. “No.” I averted them again. “I don’t really ever want you to.”

He pulled me in tighter to him and I could hear the smile in his voice, “That can probably be arranged.”


	2. Mission:  Devote

When I awoke, my first thought was that I felt much cozier than usual. As soon as I realized the cause for this was the man pressed up against my back, I smiled sleepily. For all my protest about getting too close, I certainly wasn’t unhappy that I’d acquiesced. This feeling, was it contentment? It certainly was an unfamiliar sensation. Of course it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. I’d chosen my path a long time ago.

I had entered the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy of Science and Technology at the behest of the mysterious benefactor who’d paid for all of my advanced schooling. I’d been seventeen and had just received my first Ph.D, in biochemistry. With no other plans or prospects and a feeling of extreme gratefulness that this shadowy figure had taken an interest in me, I agreed. I thought it would give me an opportunity to research my own past, to find out who or what I was, also, possibly why the shadow person had an interest. Unfortunately, several years and much exploration in that realm had yielded little. Still, I excelled and truly enjoyed my experience at Sci-Tech. I changed my focus pretty early on to nuclear and theoretical physics. I entered the materials science and engineering program as well, where my hidden talent for technopathy proved valuable. When the call went out from Ops for Sci-Tech grads willing to train for field work, I jumped at the chance. The world was changing and they occasionally needed people with a more technical background to go into tight and dangerous spaces. Hey, who didn’t want to see the world covertly, meet interesting people, and occasionally kill them? The program was insanely intensive. Fifteen of us started out and only four made the final cut. I’d been used ever since on field ops teams and for industrial espionage missions.

Relationships of most kinds were something I’d given up for the greater good. Sure, I had working relationships and a very few people I’d be willing to take a bullet for, but very few real bonds had ever been forged. For good reason. We lose people weekly at S.H.I.E.L.D. We use people outside the organization ruthlessly. It’s not conducive to feelings. So, what the hell was I doing? This couldn’t happen. It wasn’t even an option. What had I done? I tried not to panic at the weight of his arm around my waist. This was dangerous. For both of us. I’d get him killed or at the very least hurt him badly. It wasn’t like I was going to be able to scoop him up in my arms and bring him to Fury, asking Can I keep him? I already knew that answer.

Bruce must have felt the quickening of my breaths as I’d fought the rising anxiety. He began to stir, nuzzling my neck and tightening his arm around me. He pulled me in securely to his hips and I could feel his need pressing against me. 

How do you fight that? Answer: You don’t. I had plenty of time to figure out what to do later. In that moment, I let my own yearning for this man take over. I would enjoy the serenity he brought me, as irrational as it was. And why not? Didn’t I deserve it? Of course I did. I relaxed into him, turning my asshole brain right off. 

His hand came up to cup my breast, thumb lightly stroking over my nipple, which responded instantly, forming a hardened peak. He lightly kissed the space between my neck and my shoulder.

I sighed my alertness as I pressed my hips back and into him.

His hand traveled down over my stomach and slid between my legs as I stretched. His intentions obvious, I turned over to face him and kissed him hard while pushing him onto his back.

I pulled away and grinned down at him before climbing on top of his hips. I leaned down to kiss him again, as I wiggled my ass around to position him where I wanted him.  
Gasping into my mouth as I rubbed myself up and down his shaft, he reached down and guided it into me. Once the connection was made, I sat up and began to grind my hips in a circle. His eyes roamed up and down my body as I moved atop him. The hunger in them as he watched me fuck him was possibly the most erotic thing I'd ever seen. A few more circles of my clit into his pubis had me crying out and falling forward onto his chest, where he wrapped his arms around me and took over with fluid movements. I licked and nipped at his neck as he rocked beneath me until he found his own release. 

“Mmm. That was a really nice way to wake up.” I enjoyed the feeling of being wrapped up in his arms, probably too much. It all seemed too serious so of course I joked, "How in the world did you convince me to do this?"

He rolled me off of him and held me at arms length, staring at me incredulously. "Convince you? You practically threw yourself at me last night!"

"Exactly. Which would never have happened if you hadn't come over."

He grinned. "So, somehow it's my fault that you have no self control?"

"Yes! You understand! I was able to hold it together in a public place, just barely, but in private? All bets were off."

"Well I'm glad." He pulled me back in tightly to his chest.

"We probably need to get going. Unless you expected to stay last night and brought a change. Or are you planning to just wear yesterday's clothes that are currently crumpled on the floor all over my apartment?"

"You make good points. Although, I'm not sure I care."

"Well, I suppose we can just stay here today. Working is overrated anyway."

"That wouldn't look at all suspicious."

"Well, come on then, you sexy nerd."

He squeezed a little tighter for a moment "Just wait. A few more minutes. Once we walk out of here, everything changes. I just want to enjoy a few more minutes of this before we take it out into the world."

I was more than happy to oblige.

 

Not nearly as late as I’d anticipated, I stepped into the lab. Only one other person was already working away.

Nancy looked up immediately, studying me. “You’re smiling. Why are you smiling?”

“What do you mean? I’m not! Well, maybe I am. I’m happy. I’m a happy person.” I ducked behind a computer screen. So much for being inconspicuous.

Her suspicious glare eventually moved away and back on to her project. 

When Bruce sidled in a few minutes later, we didn’t really speak to each other. But I was definitely smiling at him more than usual. And he returned them more than he should have.

Suddenly, I heard Nancy’s sharp laugh. “Oh, there is a god! Thank you Jesus, Muhammad, and the Buddha. So you two finally did it.”

“Did what?” I asked innocently.

“Don’t be coy. You both have been completely ridiculous for the last two months. Maybe now we can all get back to work!”

Bruce made an apologetic face. “Has it been that obvious?”

Nancy shrugged. “Probably just to me. I’m really tuned in to that kind of bullshit. After he took you out to lunch I had high hopes it would happen right away."

“What can I say? I'm ridiculously stubborn." I shrugged. "We’re not going to let it affect the work environment. I promise. Utmost discretion. Can we ask for the same from you?”

“As long as I don’t have to find you making out in the supply closet, I’ll keep my mouth shut,” she quipped.

Bruce scoffed. “We’re not high school kids.”

Over the next few months we made out in that supply closet at least six times. No one ever walked in.

As evening approached, our colleagues all headed home. Soon it was just the two of us remaining. I began packing up to go after clearing away the remnants of the day’s final experimentation.

Warm arms curled around me as Bruce spoke into my ear, “Is it presumptuous to assume you’ll be willing to come home with me this evening.”

I grinned. “No, not at all. In fact I’d be offended if you hadn’t assumed that I was coming home with you for the weekend. Oops. Did I just invite myself over for the whole weekend?”

“Angel, I’d be offended if you thought you were going home any time soon.” 

“Ooh, look at you, just getting saucier by the moment.”

“Then I probably shouldn’t tell you I already ordered us dinner to pick up on the way, assuming you wouldn’t turn me down.”

“Mmm, hmm. The cheek is strong with this one.”

“And you have the audacity to call me a nerd.”

“A sexy nerd, though.”

“Come on, Gorgeous. Let’s go.”

 

We picked the ordered Thai food on the way back to Bruce’s apartment, which was a little larger and definitely nicer than my single. All very modern but sparsely furnished: television, boxy black steel framed sofa, side table, round dinette with chairs that nested around the table to save space. The walls were all painted bright white and were bare saving the one with three framed eight by ten black and white photographs of ocean waves.

“Those are beautiful.” I admired each photo for a long time.

“Thanks. I took them when I lived in California. I was at Caltech for grad school. The ocean, it has a calming effect.”

"I'm sure. I've never been to California. I'm mostly an east coast girl."

"I'll take you some day. You'll love it."

I stood stock still and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?" He gave me a nervous, tight lipped smile.

‘Maybe,” I chuckled. “Relationships aren’t exactly my forte, so you may not want to get your hopes up.”

“Trust me, this isn’t exactly my MO either. I don’t even really understand why I’m so comfortable with you. The fact that I practically stalked you to get this to off the ground boggles my mind. That’s really not me at all. But there’s just something here, you know? It needed to be explored.”

I nodded my agreement as I continued to circle the apartment. He had the newest model iPod nestled into a state-of-the-art speaker system on a shelf on the far side of the room.

“Are you a music guy?”

“Uh, yeah, I suppose I am.”

I turned the system on and was surprised as ‘The Song That Jane Likes’ came out of the speakers. “Dave Matthews Band?” I scoffed. “This is a seriously deep cut too.”

“If it’s so offensive to you, how do you know who it is and that it wasn’t released as a single?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I loved them in grad school. It’s nostalgic!”

I shook my head. “Exactly how high were you at university?”

“Enough.”

I laughed as I walked away, leaving the iPod on shuffle. 

We ate at the tiny kitchen table as the music played. Mostly a mix of B sides, unreleased album tracks, and even a few songs that I had never heard before, though I recognized the artists. “It seems you have very particular taste,” I teased. “Do you have great disdain for people who listen things that are too popular?”

“It’s just a playlist!”

I laughed. “I understand that. What I don’t understand is why it’s so specific. Are you always so damned organized? What does your underwear drawer look like?”

“You’re welcome to check it out.”

“Don’t tempt me. I will.”

As we were clearing up dishes, the song changed again, this time to ‘Red Hill Mining Town’. “Oh I like this one. It might be my favorite U2 song.”

“Finally one you approve of?”

“I never said I didn’t approve of any of the others! ‘Release’ is by far my favorite track from ‘Ten’ and ‘The Trees’ is a classic."

He grabbed me around the waist and took me for a turn around the kitchen before I stopped him. “This isn’t really a song for dancing.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Well, maybe I’m just not a girl for dancing. At least not vertically,” I smirked and lifted a brow.

“Neither am I, really,” he laughed as he bent down to kiss me. “Just trying out more new things.”

 

And it went on like that. Within a couple of weeks my little apartment lay empty and we embarked on an actual relationship. A normal coupling almost like ordinary people. It was a first for me, a relationship outside the agency that actually felt routine, typical, like these things are supposed to be according real people. It was strange and amazing and I actually forgot for a while that I was an outsider, that I was there for another purpose. Bruce made me feel wanted and needed in a different way. Not for my unique skill set. Not for the information I could provide. Not as an object to be used. But as a companion. Someone who was worthwhile for my humanity not my training. And for a little while that was all that mattered. 

It wasn't perfect, of course. I noticed a brooding in him occasionally, for a few moments or a few days. He'd be quiet and contemplative and it worried me. I would assume he’d figured out my secrets, had discovered all of my lies. I just wanted him to confront me so we could move on, go our separate ways. I knew it would happen one day. I’d considered telling him so many times but fear always stopped me. After about six months, there was a period that lasted longer than any before it. 

“I’m worried about you.” I sat heavily on the sofa next to him and laced my fingers with his, leaning my head on his shoulder. He didn’t pull away. That was a good sign.

“I’m sorry, Angel. I've got a lot of things on my mind."

"Share. I'll carry the burden with you." I smiled up at him.

"Yeah." He rubbed his face with his free hand. "We really need to talk."

“OK.” Generalized terror. That’s what I felt right then.

“I’ve been offered a position at a research facility in New Mexico, with the Defense Department.”

“Defense Department? That sounds less than philanthropic.”

“I’m certain that it is.”

“But you’re still considering it?” He looked at me with mournful eyes. “Oh god. You are considering it.”

He stood and began to pace around the room. “I am. It would be good in the long run. The salary is excellent.”

“The salary?” This wasn’t my Bruce. I did not know this man. I stood and walked near to him as he continued to pace. “What is happening here? What am I missing?”

“A government job would be stable, with good income, it’s the most logical plan. I’d be able to provide for a family.”

“Family?”

“They’ll allow me to bring in a few of my own people.” He stopped in front of me and took my hands. “I want you to come with me. But if that happens, you need to know, to me, that means this,” he tightened his grip on my hands, “is really going somewhere. If you come, you need to be prepared. I’m going to want you to marry me. But I can’t ask you for that until you know everything.”

I was shocked into complete silence at that point. 

“I told you about my mother.”

I nodded.

“But I never told you how she died.” He let go of my hands and backed up against the wall, pushing his head back into it as he looked towards the ceiling.

“Go on,” I prodded.

He slid down the wall, landing on his ass, head falling into his hands. “I don’t talk about this, ever.”

“Hey,” I sat next to him against the wall, “you don’t have to.”

“I do. I owe it to you. You need to know what you’ve gotten into with me.”

I really didn’t want to know. Telling me his secrets, made me feel that much worse that I couldn’t tell him mine. “I already know everything I need to.”

“You don’t. Just listen. My mother was killed, murdered, a victim of domestic violence. My father was...not a good person.”

It took me a moment before I could respond. Once I did, of course it was more sarcastic than it should have been. “Sounds like a massive understatement.”

“Yeah. He abused us both but she got the brunt of it, trying to protect me. She’d finally had enough and we were trying to leave him. But he found us before we could." He took a deep breath. "I saw it. I watched him kill her and I couldn’t help. I was eight years old.”

“Oh my god.” I curled my arm around his and pulled him closer. 

“So you see,” he looked at me with haunted eyes, “I come from a violent strain. My father, his father, who knows how many before that? All abusers. And I feel the darkness in me. There’s anger there. It’s deep, but it’s there.”

“It’s kind of understandable.”

“But it scares me. What if I snap and do...something. What if the corruption, whatever it is, what if it comes out of me?”

"Does it regularly come out?"

"No."

"Well, then, you know what that’s called? Mental Health. Being able to deal with your shit. Has it ever come out?"

"Yes. Once." He cringed at a memory.

I tightened my grip on him.

"After he got out of prison, he came to me. Wanted to talk. Well, he wanted to tell me how everything terrible in his life was my fault, in any case. I walked out on him. I went to visit my mother's grave. He followed me, confronted me. We fought. He fell. Hit the stone. Bryn, I killed him."

I reached up and touched his face, wishing I could take every bit of that trauma away from him. 

He was stunned. “That doesn't make you afraid of me?"

"No."

"You're not disgusted?"

"No!"

"You still want to be with-"

"Of course! This changes nothing! We all have history, secrets." I took a deep breath, ready to spill my own. "I-"

He didn't allow me to finish my confession. He pushed me to the floor, kissed me with an assertiveness I hadn't seen before, born of relief and absolution. Then he was inside me, fucking me with a passion and abandon I hadn't known he was capable of.

Afterwards, still inside of me, he pushed himself up and looked down into my eyes. "I love you."

I smiled and said, "I know."

"No. Don't you dare. Don't do the Han thing."

I continued to grin at him.

"Tell me." His face was serious, concerned. He didn't believe I still could.

"Bruce," I steeled myself. "I love you in a way I didn't even know I was capable of."

"But what I want and what I deserve are two completely different things. How can you still-"

"Stop. I don’t ever want to hear anything like that from you. I didn't know it was possible but maybe I love you even more now and you deserve every bit of it.”

He almost smiled as he sat up and pulled me into his arms. "Then I guess we have more things we need to talk about."


	3. Mission:  Dissolve

Just a few weeks later we were settled in New Mexico. The only real way to describe the tiny house where we began building our life was flat and bright. So much light flooded through the windows, the glass doors, the kitchen skylight, it was almost too much for a lifelong city dweller like myself. Much as I'd like to blame my mood during that time on that brightness, I can't. It was the happy, normal life that buoyed me up. It was by far the most content I'd been in my life up to that point. Even now, all these years later, all of this life later, it still comes close. 

Not that I didn't have moments of guilt, doubt. I had plenty of those. But it was easy to put aside in the day to day, sleeping and waking next to a man I loved, who felt the same, planning a life. Building a future.

It was everything I'd never even known I'd wanted, I'd needed. I figured if I could just get through this one last op, get them some really great intel, and maybe they'd be willing to let me go. And if not, I'd resolve it another way, maybe just disappear. I wouldn't be leaving behind too many people I cared about. Lex? Tash, maybe? Not many at all. And how often were we all in the same place anyway? Almost never. It would be worth it. Whatever it took to ensure a continuation of this contentment.

But that’s not how it works. You don’t always have a say in the direction your life goes. Accidents, coincidence, other people’s choices, your own poor decisions, the unseen will of a malevolent god...so many things go into making existence not your own to control. 

And there's never a warning sign is there? There's never a note on your bedside table when you wake that says, 'Enjoy this! It's the last day you get to be happy!' Or skywriting outside your window reading, 'Brace yourself! This is the day that you die inside!' No. It's always bright and sunny and temperate on those days when it should be raining hellfire in preparation for the torment your soul is about to face.

And it was, that day. Bright and warm, sunny and lovely. I'd known that Bruce was working his way towards asking. He'd taken to holding my left hand in his and running his fingers around the base of my finger, at first I think to gauge my acceptance of the idea, then later to elicit the smile it always caused. But I couldn't allow him to ask me, let alone say yes when he did, without him knowing the truth first.

"Hey, sweetie," I kissed his cheek as he brushed his teeth that morning, "we need to talk."

"Okay." He spit out a mouthful of foam. "What is it?"

"No," I hesitated. "Not now. Tonight. After work. We really need to sit down and discuss. It's kind of important." I was nervous, not meeting his eyes.

When I looked up, he was smiling. "Sure, Angel, whatever you need."

I nodded and went on my way, finishing up my morning routine, but I was distracted, nervous. 

Soon we were in the car, after he slid behind the wheel, I turned to him. "You know how much I love you, don't you?"

"Of course I do." He leaned across the seat to kiss me, just a little peck, before continuing, "You know you're the best thing to ever happen to me, right?"

I closed my eyes and let out a big breath. "I just hope you always feel that way."

"Trust me. There's nothing you could say or do that would change that."

"Are you sure?" I decided to lighten my own mood with some teasing. "What if I told you I'd been a stripper to put myself through college?"

"I'd say that wasn't possible because you don't dance."

"What if that's why I don't dance now?" I was grinning.

"Then it makes a tiny bit more sense, I guess? But your past is just that. Past. I don't care about it."

"What if I told you I was an alien only here for the sole purpose of breeding with you?"

"Then I'd say bring it on." He grinned back at me and I shifted in the seat to face him even more.

“What if I said I was an operative for a secret government agency, sent to spy on you?”

“Brynja, there is nothing, not one insane, ridiculous, horrifying, or genuine thing you could possibly tell me that would change my feelings. Are you sure you don’t want to talk now? You seem really preoccupied.”

I shook my head and bit my lip before turning the keys hanging in the ignition to battery. I swung myself around onto his lap, ending up with one knee on the center console and the other braced against the door. I mentally flipped through the iPod stashed in the console settling on Bill Withers 'Use Me' which began to play through the car's speakers. He laughed at the absurdity of my position and the 'coincidence' of the song beginning to play. He always loved the 'coincidentally appropriate' songs that popped on at just the right time. Just another of the myriad lies I told every day.

"What are you doing?"

"I think you know what I'm doing." I pushed the seat back as far as it would go in an attempt not to honk the horn with my ass. 

As his head was lowered with the back of the seat he asked, "We're in the driveway! What are you going to do if Mrs. Phelps walks over here and sees this?"

"I will politely hold up a finger for her to wait until I'm finished with you, then I will roll down the window and ask what I can do for her." 

He smiled widely at me as I made quick work of freeing him from his fly, pulling my panties to the side, and settling him inside of me under my skirt. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. Are you sure this is safe?”

“Well, frankly, it’s not as easy as I’d imagined.” I unbuttoned my blouse as I rolled my hips against him. “Whose idea was a Prius anyway?”

He thumbed my nipples through the thin lace of my bra. “We can go back in-”

“No. We don’t have time. We’ll be late.” 

“I think we’re already going to be late.”

I reached past his hands to pull down the cups, freeing my breasts and he groaned before recovering my flesh with his hands and lifting his head to glance around at the deserted street.

“Relax,” I admonished as I leaned down, kissing him hard and moving his hands behind me and under my skirt.

His fingers dug into my hips as he took my suggestion and loosened the tension in his body before beginning to thrust up into me.

All at once the absurdity of the situation hit me and I began to laugh against his lips.

He turned his head. “Oh, sh-,” he grunted. “Mmmm. Don’t laugh. I can’t…”

Which of course made me laugh harder. I reached down between my legs to hasten my orgasm knowing he’d fight against his own until I’d come. As I called out, tightening around him, he lost it too. And I began again to giggle into his neck.

He chuckled as well as he wilted into the seat. “You’ve got a wild side you haven’t shown me yet, don’t you?”

“Maybe. Would you want to see it if I did?”

“There's not even a question.” He kissed me long and hard before finally letting me go, deciding we should probably head in to the lab.

 

The first half of the day passed pretty much just like any other. The mundane testing and studying going on as always. But the mood all around was lighter than usual. That's what happens when a project lead spends the whole morning with a silly grin on his face. More than the average amount of jokes were cracked and not even just by me and Nancy, who he'd stolen from our other project as well. We were the ones who generally made the most light of our intense and potentially dangerous situation, but that day, nearly everyone was in a better than average mood.

There was even a point when he walked up behind me and playfully patted my ass. Very unusual, this PDA. I thought, that bodes well for future fun if we make it through the the night! But first we needed to get through the evening's big reveal.

But a little after noon things started going awry. It was subtle at first. Just a few readings higher than expected. In fact, it's only in hindsight I can see exactly where the problem began. But it spiraled quickly out of control.

I have my theories. I never believed it was truly an accident. Things that came to light many years later support my beliefs that sabotage was was the name of the game but at the time, it appeared to be just an unfortunate accident. These things happen when dealing with such dangerous substances.

We tried shutting down the systems. We performed every fail safe maneuver. Nothing worked. Eventually Bruce made a call, one I wasn't happy with. 

"You have to go. Get these people to safety. I'll stay and keep trying to shut it down."

I shook my head. "You get them out. I'll stay and fix this." I was thinking, given enough time and privacy I could get inside it, figure out the workings of the machines, kill them from the inside out. 

But Bruce was insistent. "You have to evacuate."

"I'm not leaving you here."

"Brynja! You have have to go! I can't concentrate knowing you're not safe! Get out!" He was yelling now. Something I’d never heard before. "Trust me, I've got this." He was lying, not even well, but I knew I wasn’t going to change his mind. 

“Okay.” I agreed, turning away and gathering up the lab's denizens. "Dr. Banner has made the executive decision that all nonessential personnel need to evacuate now. Come on, we're all going."

Nancy stopped me. "Wait. Who are the essential personnel?"

"Dr. Banner," I replied flatly.

Her eyes widened. "Oh, Liz-"

I waved off her concern. "We're going." Everyone filed out. "You're in charge here, Nancy. Get everyone out, neighboring buildings too. We have no idea what's going to happen here."

I took a detour to the ladies room down the hall, locating the small grate where I'd hidden my essentials, badge, 9 mm, communicator, that I hadn't wanted to smuggle in on a daily basis. No time to pry it open, I slipped off my heels and kicked it in.

"What the hell was that?" Nancy's voice came from behind me as I reached in and pulled out my contraband.

"For fuck's sake, go! Follow a goddamn direction for once in your life!" I stowed the gun and wallet into the waistband of my skirt and clicked the comm onto my wrist as I ushered her back out of the restroom door.

I waved her on her way as I powered up the device on my arm. "This is Agent Omdahl. Who have I got?"

"It's Briggs, ma'am. How should I direct you?"

"Not sure yet, Briggs. I have a potential situation that the brass may need to be aware of but currently it's under control...ish."

That's when the explosion hit. It shook the building but it didn’t go down. It had clearly been contained in some way. 

"Shit, Briggs, we've definitely been compromised. Give me whoever you can get. I'll need a team for backup." 

"Roger that." The line went quiet and I went back into the depths of the corridor to assess the damage. Admittedly probably stupid, having no idea what was happening. Everything behind the doorway was in shambles. I could hear that the filtration system was still functional. It would hopefully keep any radiation from leaking out of the building.

"Omdahl, it's Hill. Do you copy?"

I tried the door. Locked. He knew I'd come back and tried to keep me out. Asshole. I tried to keep my shit together and not notice that not one thing could possibly still be living in that room.

"Do you copy?"

I swallowed hard. "Yeah, I copy."

"Give me the quick and dirty."

"Uh, yeah, well, our lab just blew up. I suspect foul play of some kind."

"Any casualties?"

I pushed my emotions down hard and covered with a joke. "Besides all of my data? Possibly my asset. Wait, something's moving in there." My relief was palpable. For a moment. 

"Is it the asset?"

"I don't know. Shit! No! It's huge. I don't know what it is. Wait...oh my god. It might be.” Just a glimpse of a face, but so familiar for being so foreign.

The sound of a group of people coming toward me pulled my attention. “Are the boots on the ground?”

“Not yet.”

“Fuck. Grunts then.” I turned to the group of men barrelling down the hallway to investigate. I pulled my ridiculous 9mm and the S.H.I.E.L.D. badge. “This is a S.H.I.E.L.D. contained area. Please turn back.”

A chorus of annoyed muttered curses came back toward me and a “Girl, what do you think you’re gonna do with that pea shooter?”

“Don’t you worry about that. I can do plenty.” Truthfully I was a little nervous because, yeah, just one me on about seven big dudes, that could go pretty badly.

A raucous laugh came from the comm. “Is it the one we just sent? That’s great! They think it’s just a regular nine? It must look really good!”

Okay. I just went with it. “Yeah, you’d never know what it can really do, Hill.”

“Boots on the ground, Omdahl.” Hill’s disembodied voice called out again and soon the standoff ended as a group of my own guys filed in.

“Are you trying to get me killed, Hill?” I whispered into my wrist.

“What? Is it just a nine? Didn’t you get the Disintegrator weapon?”

“No!”

“Did we leave you off the list? Huh.”

When I caught sight of the man in the lead, I cursed loud and low. “Billups! Seriously?”

“Beggars, Omdahl,” was Hill’s reply. “His team was closest.”

John Billups and his ever present blond brush cut swept around the military personnel as if they didn’t exist. “Omdahl, always a pleasure to be a party to whatever the hell you’ve fucked up this week.”

“Fuck off, Billups. I need to know you’re on board with this. Are you going to be able to follow orders?”

“That depends on whether or not your orders are retarded.”

“God damn it, John!”

“It was a joke! Jesus!” His eyes grew wide as he noticed the movement in the debris through the window behind me. “What the fuck is that?”

“I think it might be my asset.”

“I’m not sure we brought guns big enough for that.”

I grabbed his collar and yanked his face down nearly a foot to meet mine. “Non-lethal force only. That. Is. My. Asset. If he’s recoverable, I’m recovering him.”

“You’re on crack. There’s no way whatever that is,” he pointed over my shoulder, “is recoverable.”

“My op. My rules. Follow orders or get the fuck out.” I let him go. “I see you brought Jackson with you. He’d make a fine sub.”

Jackson grinned and winked.

He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, no problem, Sugar. I’m all yours. You just tell me what you'd like.”

“Ugh.” I grimaced. I didn’t need this right now. The sounds of destruction were getting louder, closer to the door. “Look, I need you to control the situation out here. Order in any necessary manpower, don’t let anyone in that room without a proper suit-”

“No one should be in that room, period.”

I continued, ignoring him completely, “It sounds like the ventilation is working properly but I’m not certain.”

“Shouldn’t you be doing all of that?”

“No. I’m going in.”

“Oh, okay. I see. You truly are fucked in the head. I always had my suspicions.”

I stared at the ceiling and counted to three in an effort to not kill him. “I have to find out what happened in there.”

“You’re not coming back out if you go in there.”

“Do you really think I’m completely useless? That’s a stupid question. I know you do. Well you know what? If I don’t come back out, this op is yours. Enjoy the glory.” 

“I’m not getting any glory from your fucked op. We’ll all be lucky to get out of this shithole alive.” As I began to back towards the door he put a hand on my shoulder and a sober look I’d never seen before crossed his face. “Seriously, Bryn, don’t go in there. I’m...worried for you.”

I shrugged his hand away. “I have to.”

I heard him mutter, “Your funeral,” as I turned away.

I made quick mental work of the lock and slipped inside the door. It was difficult to see with the dust, smoke, and debris. The sounds of crashing towards the back of the lab seemed to be diminishing in frequency. “Bruce?” I called, as I took a few tentative steps inside the room. I called out to him again, unsure if what I’d seen before through the haze could have even been possible. If this thing was Bruce, could he be reasoned with? Or was this something else entirely.

I startled as a roar, much closer than the crashing, came from my right. Then I saw the face again and was sure. It was a distorted mask of the man I knew so well. “Bruce? Honey? Are you in there? Are you okay? It’s Brynja. You know me, right?” Oh god, he was slowly coming closer, no sign of recognition that I could tell. Yep, this is it, I thought. Billups was right for once. I’m going to die in here. I looked around for debris large enough to levitate and fling as a distraction. 

But then it appeared as if he almost began collapsing in on himself and ended up on the ground, every inch the man I’d always known. I screamed into the comm, “I need a stretcher and a medic. Now!”

 

S.H.I.E.L.D was crawling all over the base now. I was certain the General was not thrilled with that development but he was probably at least a little grateful he didn’t have to take full credit for the disastrous explosion of a gamma bomb, however contained it may have been. We had a team trying to figure out both what had caused the explosion and how Bruce had been able to limit the damage so successfully. I sat on the most uncomfortable metal stool in the universe, bent over the as yet unconscious body of my partner. His heart rate, respirations, and blood oxygenation were being monitored by a noisy machine at the head of the stretcher. All appeared to be normal, though on the high side of normal, to be sure. His eyelids began to flutter and I grabbed his hand as his eyes opened.

“Hey, there you are.” I said softly with what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

With not more than a croak, he asked, “What happened?”

“Do you remember anything? There was an explosion but you sent everyone out before it happened and managed to contain it somehow. You saved a lot of people today.” I waved the medic over. “Can we get some water here?” I asked the man.

He turned away for a moment and came back, not with refreshment but a syringe.

Bruce tried to bat the man’s hand away. “Don’t put that in me,” he plead.

“What are you doing?” I shouted. “Don’t do that!”

The man continued to advance. “No choice, Ma’am. I have orders.”

“I’m giving the orders here-”

“Not anymore.”

“Then who?”

“The Director is on his way in.”

I cursed quietly then more effusively as he brought the needle back toward Bruce’s arm. “I swear to whatever deity you believe in that if you touch him with that, I will snap your motherfucking neck.”

When he didn’t stop, I jumped off the stool and went to make good on my threat but I wasn’t the only one to react. The latent giant also made a move at protecting...Bruce? Himself? I wasn’t sure, but as he sat up, transforming again, he grabbed the doctor and flung him, ragdoll-style, into the wall opposite. 

I backed my way toward the door, unsure if I was next or not. The stretcher crashed into the doorway I was less than a foot out of. I made an executive decision and headed out to the parking lot. 

I didn’t have the keys to the Prius. They were presumably somewhere in the ruined laboratory. Luckily, I have intimate knowledge of the workings of an internal combustion engine, even a hybrid one, so it was easy to “hotwire”. I drove back to our flat little house and began packing essentials into a tote. Laptop, clothes, cash, anything useful I could quickly get my hands on.

In the bedroom, I shoved in as much as I could grab. I opened the top drawer of the chest of drawers in the corner, Bruce’s tee shirt drawer, grabbing a handful off the top and shoving them in. A little box thunked onto the floor at my feet. I reached down to retrieve it, already knowing what it was. I opened the velvet clad case knowing I shouldn’t and didn’t have time. The satin pillow held a modest marquis with a little pear shaped stone imbedded in the gold on either side.

“You really did a number on that guy, didn’t you?”

I didn’t need to turn. That voice was as familiar to me as my own.

“It’s not like that, sir.”

Fury sighed as he rested against the doorway. “I know it’s not. We shouldn’t have left you in this deep for this long.”

I placed the ring box on top of the dresser. “I don’t think it would have made any difference.”

He nodded at the bag near my feet. “Where are you headed, Omdahl?”

“I’m headed to you. Or rather I figured I was headed wherever you’re planning on putting me once you’re done with me. I just wanted to pack a few things before then.”

“And you’re packing for him because?”

I laughed, a joyless sound. “I’m not. Just taking a few things for...you know, tee shirts are comfortable for sleeping in. Anyway, I have everything I need.” I swept past him and into the bright little kitchen. I grabbed the spare keys off the hook. “You need a ride back to the base?”

 

It had been hours and they wouldn’t let me see him again. I supposed they'd given up experimentation until he could be transported to a more equipped facility. They were keeping him in a nearly empty but well secured room. I’d been watching him on a monitor.

"Director, please! We don't understand what's going on. Maybe he does. It's happening to his body. Maybe he has a visceral knowledge of it. Just let me speak with him and I can find out."

"And what if I say yes and you don't come back out?"

"Oh, come on! I've been in a room with the other," I gesticulated not knowing what to call it-him, "twice now. He-it hasn't hurt me. I'll be fine."

"I send you in, you're taking at least two big guys with you."

"No. I don't want him to feel threatened in any way. That's what caused the last...problem. Everyone else needs to stay far away."

"Omdahl, you're asking for the moon."

"And you're going to give it to me because my shining smile brightens your day. And because you know it's the only way."

He looked at me sternly but didn't reply, so I knew permission was granted.

I made my way down the corridors surprised, yet not, that so few people were around. It was clear everyone was terrified of this creature. I knew I should've been too, but how could I be? It was Bruce, in some other form, but it was still Bruce.

When I got to the room where they had him locked, I felt around inside with my mind for surveillance cameras. I've found the best way to deal with cams is to push back into the data and rerun the prior hour of footage on a loop. Then I disabled the lock and slipped in.

He was sitting at a small table in an uncomfortable looking plastic chair. He looked up and the misery in his eyes was almost too much to handle.

I dropped my tote on the ground and went to him. I threw my arms around him and, though he stiffened at first, he quickly relaxed into me. I kissed the top of his head and asked, "Are you okay?"

"I am now." He brought his arms up over mine and squeezed. "Do you have any idea what the hell all of this is? I'm so...confused."

"We're still in the base. It's a different building, though."

"And these S.H.I.E.L.D. people, they all seem to know you, calling you Agent Omdahl?"

I sighed into the top of his head and came around to sit in the rickety chair next to him. "Yeah." I took his hands in mine. "This is what I do, really. In my," I scoffed, "real life. All of this is what I wanted to talk to you about over dinner."

He looked incredulous. “You told me, didn’t you? In the car this morning. You told me and I blew it off as crazy.”

“Yeah. That was sort of the point. Because it is. It’s completely crazy. I’m sorry.”

He nodded, blank expression still in place. “In that other room before, with that doctor, you threatened to... you couldn’t really...”

I sighed. “Trust me, I’ll always go for non-lethal force first, if I can. I’d have tried to choke him into unconsciousness first. But, yeah, I mean, I could have made good on the threat if I’d needed to.” 

He nodded then started to laugh. Not a joyful sound, a sad one.

"What?" I asked with concern.

He shook his head. "Nah, it's stupid." He'd pulled one hand back to rub his eyes. 

"Tell me."

"Just wishful thinking on my part, I guess. I thought I knew what you were going to tell me over dinner tonight, last night? I’ve completely lost track of time.” He rubbed his eyes again. “You know, you've been kind of preoccupied lately. And you had that stomach flu last week. I just thought, maybe..." He trailed off and I buried my face in my hands to try to stem the tide of tears I felt burning behind my eyes.

"No, I'm sorry, no." I looked up. "I wish it had been that."

"God, no. Don't wish that. Not now-"

"Hey!" I grabbed his hands again. "We will figure this out. Together."

"No." He stood and walked across the room. "Definitely not. You need to go. Stay far away from me."

"Why?” I asked, tears brimming in my eyes. “Why can’t we try and work this out?”

“It’s not something we can work out, Bryn!” He was stalking and pacing around the room, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I’ll hurt you.”

I went to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. “You won’t hurt me. I know you. It might not be permanent and if it is, we’ll figure out a way to cure it. Or you’ll learn to control it. I’ll help you.”

He turned on me, his face filled with a mix of emotion that should never need to be put together: anger, fear, regret, longing, maybe more. “You can’t help me. No one can.”

I looked up at the ceiling and let out a mirthless laugh. “This is insane. We don’t even know-”

“I do know!” He was raising his voice now. “This is not a situation that can be handled! Besides, I’ve seen how S.H.I.E.L.D. handles things. I don't want to be a part of that!”

I stood, stunned for a moment. “Is that what this is about? My involvement with S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Doesn’t exactly help matters.”

Now it was my turn to raise my voice. “I’m not S.H.I.E.L.D. right now. I’ve never been. Not with you. Everything here has been real.”

“And how am I supposed to believe that?” he spat. “I trusted you. But I don’t even know you. For all I know, you could have been involved in, whatever happened in there. Someone did something. That wasn’t an accident. You could have orchestrated it. You were right there.”

“I didn’t. I promise you.” I collapsed back into the chair as the reality hit me. This was over. Truly over. My head hit the table as I let go and cried for the first time. But I had to make one last effort. “We don’t have to stay here. We can just go. The car is parked in the back, near the door. Let's just walk out.”

He sat down in the adjacent chair and his comforting arm was placed across my back. “No,” he murmured into my hair. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t do this. This is the problem. I’m a mess. I can’t really foresee a future when I am ever not a mess. I won’t come with you. You deserve better.”

“I really don’t. But even if I did, that would still be you. You are what’s better. And I want you.”

He shook his head, his eyes rimmed in red but filled with that resolute certainty I'd seen so often. The one that meant he couldn't be swayed. “It’s not possible.”

“Okay. I understand.” The decision final, I dried my eyes as I stood up. "I love you."

He almost smiled as he replied, "I know."

I did smile and swatted his hand gently. Then I reached down into the duffel, before pushing my shoulders back and forcing a neutral expression. “It’s been a genuine pleasure working with you Dr. Banner.” I held out my hand to shake his, leaving the keys in his hand, then turned, grabbed the bag, and left the room, leaving the door wide behind me.

I stalked out of the building where I saw a quin ready to take off. As the hatch began to close, I jumped aboard.

From behind me came a voice. "Of all the quinjets, in all the world, you walk into mine."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't expect me to believe you've ever seen Casablanca?" I sat down on the bench seat next to Billups and stowed my bag under the seat.

He looked offended. "Of course I haven't. I'm not gay. But everyone knows that line."

"You're not gay? Not even a little? How did you get recruited into S.H.I.E.L.D. then? I thought they only took people who scored a two or higher on the Kinsey."

"Seems like that sometimes, doesn't it? Maybe they made an exception for me because of my extreme awesome." He smiled his self satisfied little grin.

"Oh god." I silently cursed my ancestors for whatever wrongdoings they'd committed that landed me in this situation. "At least tell me we're headed somewhere decent."

"We're headed back to NYHQ. You mean, you jumped in my quin without knowing where we were going?” He clearly thought I was crazy. “We could have been going to Laos or something and you're wearing those shoes?"

"Shut up. I love these shoes. And it didn't matter where you were going. I just needed out of there."

“Ugh,” he groaned. "Please tell me I’m not harboring a fugitive?"

"You can't prove it." I sighed. "I just couldn't be there anymore. Not for one more second."

"So what was the deal with all that? You've been on that op long term. Word was you were living with that guy? The asset?"

I scrubbed my face with my palms. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Was it tough? Sleeping with that every night, Omdahl? When he wasn't all jacked and green, that dude was pretty scrawny and I know you like 'em beefy."

I stared at him in disgust. "I don't...I don't like...anything...Billups, what the fuck!"

"You were pretty hot and heavy with Galliano a couple of years ago, and that dude is huge." 

"Did he tell you that?” I was at my wits end with this shit. “That was just sex. It didn't mean anything."

"But this dude, this scientist guy, meant something?" The disgust on his face mirrored my own.

"I swear to god Billups, if you don't shut the fuck up I can't be held responsible for what happens. I'm not discussing this with you."

Jackson, from his left added, "You may want to give it a rest, bro."

"No! I won't!" Inexplicably Angry Billups mode had been unlocked. "There are plenty of decent S.H.I.E.L.D. guys out there and she goes for some pansy scien-"

I couldn't stop it. Truth be told I probably wouldn't have stopped even if I could. My right fist came around and got him squarely in the face.

"What the fuck, you crazy bitch! You broke my nose!"

Jackson shook his head. "Dude, she warned you. So did I."

I called out to one of the pilots, "Prakash, am I in the wrong here?"

"No." She threw a rag she'd grabbed from near her feet over her shoulder to me. "If he'd been within arm's reach, I'd have hit him for you myself."

"Thank you!" I turned back to Billups and pushed the rag under his nose to stem the flow of blood. "Maybe if you weren't such a misogynist dick head, you'd have more friends."

His pinched nasal voice returned, "This coming from you."

"Hey, I like you, Ommie," Jackson said holding a fist across Billups chest for a bump.

"Thanks, Jax." I did not leave him hanging. "Anything you ever need, you come to me, buddy."

Billups refused to speak for the rest of the flight. It was truly a blessing.

 

Sitting on the edge of the bed in my little cubby of a room in HQ barracks a couple of days later, I think I was mostly still in shock. I'd run out of tears, run out of emotion completely, so I'd thought. Hours of grilling from my superiors had left me hoarse and seeking solitude. But not everyone respects a need for solitude.

A knock rang out through the tiny room.

"What?"

My intruder took that as an invitation. Unsurprisingly, Natasha walked through the door. "Hey."

"Hey." I wasn't really a fan of anyone seeing me not totally together, but of the very few people who might be allowed to, she was one.

She sat down next to me on the bed. "You good?"

I turned to her with a horrified look and after a moment, answered, "Yeah. Great. Right as fucking rain."

"How'd it go with the PTB? I didn't think they'd ever let you out of that office."

I let loose a derisive snort. "I didn't think they were going to let me out alive." I imitated Fury's voice, "Do you even realize what you've done? The lives you put at risk? The manpower we'll need to pull to track him down?" I rolled my eyes. "All with Hill just standing behind him, lips pursed is silent judgement. She did smirk a little when he reprimanded me for punching Billups though.”

"You've got balls of steel, B, I'll give you that. I mean, you knew that would happen and you went and did it anyway." 

"Not necessarily. 'I can neither confirm nor deny the veracity of your claims.' I'm a good little agent. I know what to say."

"Yeah, I don't think that line was meant to be used on the people that coined it." She grinned at me.

"What the fuck was I supposed to do, Tash?" I'd thrown my arms wide in exasperation. "Let them shove him down in The Sandbox til they figured out a way to "dispose" of him? He didn't do anything to deserve that!" I attempted to shut that emotion back down, compartmentalize. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. It's over."

She shook her head then sighed. "Look, if you want to talk-"

"I don't want to talk about it. They want me to see Tate and I'm not doing that either."

She gagged a little at the sound of Lexi's surname but went on. "I know this feels like shit right now. The whole op went to hell and I know you loved that guy, but it's not that bad. It could be a lot worse."

I stared at her with obvious open mouthed disgust. "How exactly could it be worse?"

She began to tick off scenarios on her fingers. "You could be dead. He could be dead. Everyone could be dead. You could have been tortured. Or," her eyes lit up as she thought of her worst case scenario, "ugh, you could be pregnant."

He thought I was going to tell him I was pregnant. I broke completely, sobbing again in an uncontrollable manner.

"Shit. Oh shit. You're not pregnant?"

I looked up at her, pleading. Stop saying that.

"Oh fuck! Shit! You are!" She threw her arm around my shoulders, "Hey, it's okay. We'll take care of it. They never even have to know. I know a guy-"

"Tash!" I yelled, pushing her off of me. "I'm not fucking pregnant!"

"Oh, thank god!"

"But if I were, I'm pretty sure 'I know how to fucking kill it' shouldn't be your immediate go to!"

"Look!" she yelled back, "I'm sorry! I'm not good at this shit!"

"I can see that!" And I couldn't help but crack a smile, the first I'd had in two days. Then I started to giggle and Tash giggled too. Then we were laughing and shaking at the absurdity of it all. "I need a drink."

"Lucky for you," she pulled a flask out of her jacket pocket, "Лучшие Напиток." 

The good stuff. I took it from her and downed more of the vodka than I should have on a oner. "Thanks."

I got up off the bed, kicking off my tortoiseshell Weitzman’s, trying hard not to think about the fact that those were the first pair I'd bought after Bruce and I moved in together. I started stripping off my skirt and top. 

Tash grinned at me from the bed. “Are we doing this again? You want me naked too? Will that take your mind off everything?"

“NO!” I threw my lacy bra at her before pulling a sports bra out of the duffel at my feet. “I’m going to the gym. And you know perfectly well it wouldn't have happened the last time if it hadn't been for the assignment."

She shrugged. “Doesn't mean it wasn't fun." She examined the bra. "Don't we wear the same size?"

"No! My tits have always been way bigger than yours."

She smirked up at me from the bed, shaking her head. "I think these are new. Are you sure you're not-"

"Don't make me kill you by finishing that sentence."

She laughed. "You want company down there?"

“I do not want company. I want to beat something.” I pulled on the green tee and a pair of shorts. 

“We could spar.”

“I want to be alone and beat something inanimate.” I yanked my hair into a ponytail and began to lace up the trainers. “Please?”

She held her hands in front of her, palms up. “Fine. You know where to find me when you’re ready for drunk. Or whatever.” She smirked at me again.

I headed out of the little room, down three levels to the training facility. It was deserted this time of night as I’d been pretty sure it would be. I taped my hands and began to punch the heavy bag that hung in the center of the gym. After about fifteen minutes, I turned to the left to kick the bag roundhouse and saw a figure in the doorway. 

“Fucking fuck! Jesus, Tate! How the hell did you get in here so quietly? You scared the ever loving shit out of me!” I bent over to catch my breath. “Romanoff called you?”

Lexi rolled farther into the room. “Yeah, trust, I was surprised too.”

“I’m not talking to you. Certainly not in any official capacity. If you want to go out for drinks and catch up, tell me all about how things are going with your girlfriend or whatever, I’m game. But I’m not talking on the record.”

“Fine. Then talk to me off the record. They just want me to check you out, make sure their investment is still worth what they put into it. They don’t need any more ending up useless like this.” She gestured down to her chair.

“Shit. I’m sorry. How are you doing?” That should have been the first thing I asked as soon as I’d seen her. High on the list of things that I am: Shitty Friend. She's been hurt a few months before I went out on the Banner Op. Not that they'd let her go to waste. They'd put her to use as an operative therapist, since her original training had been medical, psychiatric.

“Managing. I was able to walk almost ten feet on the parallel bars yesterday in rehab. They’re pretty confident I’ll be back on my feet someday with crutches and braces and shit. I’ll practically be bionic. But I’m not here to talk about me.” She wheeled all the way into the room.

"And again, I'm not talking to you about this." I went back to punching the bag.

"Look, you have to. Not for them, Brynja, for you. I got the briefing and read it through three times. I still have no idea what happened. To process and move forward you need to talk."

"Fine. Went on an op. Op went to shit. Basically entirely my fault. End of story."

"The explosion? How was that your fault?"

I grabbed the bag around the center and thrust my knee into it repeatedly like it was Billups's groin. "Didn't. Stop. It."

She pursed her lips. "Did you have advance information that it was happening? Extra knowledge about how to prevent it?"

"No."

"Then you can't blame yourself for it." She sounded so reasonable, it almost made sense.

I kicked at the bag again. "Look! Logic isn't going to work here! My brain isn't involved in this!"

"So, it's not about the failure of the op at all is it?"

"No! Of course it's not! I don't give a flying fuck about the op! Or S.H.I.E.L.D.! Or any of this!" I kicked the bag hard enough for it to swing backward. I collapsed in a heap as it swung back, narrowly missing my head. "How am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to go on as if nothing happened, Lex?" I dropped my face into my hands as the tears started to stream again. Every time I thought I was out of them, I was wrong. They just kept coming.

After a moment, I felt warm strong arms around me. Lexi had lowered herself out of the chair and was on the ground with me gathering me up into her.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "You shouldn't be down here."

"Bitch, don't you tell me what I should and shouldn't do. You are one of my oldest and dearest friends. I'm not sure I'd have made it through Sci Tech without you-" I scoffed. "Shut the fuck up, Omdahl, I'm talkin'." Her southern accent got stronger when she was angry. "I sure as hell wouldn't have made it through Ops. You are clearly in pain and I will hug you if I fuckin' choose too."

I was sobbing again at this point.

"Talk to me."

"What is there to talk about? He's angry. He doesn't want to see me. He's gone. It's over. I loved him and I fucked it all up. Not that that's surprising."

She sighed and held me tighter. "Shit. I was worried that may have been what was going on. You don't love easy but you love hard. You don't often let people close but once you do, you keep them there. I feel extremely lucky to be one of those people."

"Yeah, I'm glad you are too. I'm so sorry about what happened to you. I hate I wasn't there to stop that either."

"You can't fix everything all the time, Bryn."

"Right. As it turns out I can't fix anything ever. Did you see they sent that POS to me too when shit went south? Fucker is always involved when the bad shit goes down." I wiped my eyes with the backs of my hands. 

"My accident was not Billups's fault. Your shit was not Billups's fault."

"I know, but it's easy to blame him because he's such an ass." I wiggled around, trying to shrug her arms away. "Now, get all your gay off of me."

"Girl, you're in the wrong place to be a homophobe. Besides you know I'm not going to limit myself with all this hotness around."

"Yeah but you're pretty exclusive with your girl now, right? Can you keep her off my back?" I stood and helped Tate back into her chair.

"No. Maria's gonna do whatever she pleases, but you talking to me will help."

"Off the record?"

"Off the record."

"I'm going to fix this somehow.” I gestured down to the chair. “I wasn't there when you got hurt but I'll figure out some way to help you heal. I owe you. A lot."

Lexi smiled sadly. "You don't. All you owe me is to not do anything stupid."

"Well, you know I can't promise that."

"Just keep talking to me. Off the record.” She mockingly put her hands in the air. “We'll get through this."

I leaned down and hugged her tightly. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I always am."


End file.
